Do Not Stand on the Stairs

"If it were possible to turn back time, what would you do, Mr. Seon Yuhan?"

"Ma'am. This building has become a labyrinth."

I pulled the interviewer to her feet without a second's delay.

"Wh—what... I'm sorry, what?"

She let herself be hauled up wearing the baffled look of someone who had no idea what face to make, and then, not long after, her expression hardened.

"You're being serious right now."

It was honestly terrifying how readily this woman believed me. Was that something that came with the job—managing Red Weavers as an agent? Sifting out a person's emotions and sincerity at a glance?

"Yes. And is there any way to get the word out, right now, as fast and as widely as possible, that this building has become a labyrinth—so no one else comes inside? Besides the Labyrinth Management Bureau, I mean."

Last time, the interviewer had vanished mid-sentence, just as she was about to tell me the answer.

Fortunately, she didn't have to agonize over it for long.

"We can ask our team's Red Weavers to post about it on social media. The Red Weaver I manage alone has nine million followers."

Ah. So that was the way. Truly befitting a Red Weaver Agent.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

The Team 4 Leader of the Red Weaver Support Department fired off a brief group message from her smartwatch, then opened her mouth again with the look of someone who had made up her mind about something.

"Mr. Seon Yuhan."

She gave off a slightly scatterbrained impression, but with an attitude like hers, she didn't strike me as the kind of person who'd get played for a fool anywhere.

"I'm going to the second floor. There's a daycare center up there. I won't force you to come help, so get yourself out first."

Why was it that people like her existed everywhere I went? People like her... I couldn't stand them. I hated them more than I could bear.

"No. I'm heading for the elevators. The building is about to lose power. Before it does, I need to get everyone who can still get down, down."

"Understood."

The two of us had to split here. It didn't take two people to press an elevator button on the third floor, and I couldn't very well follow her while abandoning someone I could save right that minute.

Of course, even then, I wouldn't be able to save everyone. I knew that as well as anyone. The interviewer surely knew it too.

Labyrinths weren't the kind of place where you could.

"Take care of yourself, Mr. Seon Yuhan."

"You too, Ma'am."

We hurried off in opposite directions, she toward the emergency stairs, I toward the elevators.

Oh, right.

"Ma'am!"

I spun around and shouted at the back of her head, her hand already gripping the emergency exit handle.

"If anyone asks you for the time, just answer them honestly! And be careful ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠on the way down the stairs!"

The interviewer tilted her head, puzzled, but waved to show she'd heard.

A long breath escaped me.

I sprinted back to the elevator bank and jabbed the button.

"Every last one except..."

Just as I remembered—aside from the car I'd ridden down and crashed in, the other three elevators were all parked up in the upper floors. They sat far beyond anything frantic stair-climbing could reach, at a height where stopping midway was physically impossible.

6... 5... 4... 3... Ding!

The man was riding it this time, too. Neat business casual, a laptop bag on his shoulder, dark brown hair—a man who looked to be in his mid-thirties.

"Not getting on?"

He asked it curtly, then pressed the door-close button without the slightest intention of waiting for an answer. What an insufferably impatient man.

The car lurched.

"Get off. The power's about to cut."

I hurried in, wedged my leg between the closing doors, and dragged the man out by the arm.

"Wh—what are you doing! What's your problem?"

The man thrashed wildly against my grip, wrenching himself free. I nearly took his laptop bag to the face for it.

"Who the hell are you?"

"My name is Seon Yuhan."

"Not your name—your apology! Doesn't an apology come first?"

The man blustered. He advanced on me like he meant to intimidate, but he didn't seem like the type to swing first without thinking.

"You're right. I apologize. This building has become a labyrinth, and the power is about ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to go out. Let's take the stairs down together."

"Now what is—ha... Fine. My own fault for crossing paths with a lunatic."

He'd gotten the apology he demanded, but apparently it hadn't satisfied him. Scratching at the back of his head, he reached past me and pressed the elevator button again.

"Believe me. This place is about to be danger—"

The touchy man never got to finish.

BANG!

A roar massive enough that the floor shuddered underfoot.

Boom, cra-crash, bang!

"Aagh! An earthquake—it's an earthquake!"

Crash, thud!

The man leapt, arms clamped over his head.

"Calm down and come downstairs with me. That's not an earthquake. An elevator just fell."

"What? Just like that? Seriously?"

"Yes. You can see the power's out. Follow me."

"Unbelievable..."

All composure gone, the man trailed after me in a daze.

"So I almost died just now?"

Well, I did die. You'd have died right along with me.

Instead of saying that, I used the short walk to the emergency exit to explain it all over again: this building had become an invasive labyrinth.

"Does that even make sense? Me, trapped in a labyrinth? No. No way. Impossible. Invasive ones are rarer than getting struck by lightning!"

"Impossible things happening is what makes a place a labyrinth. And somewhere out there, someone really does get struck by lightning."

There was no law saying it only struck once, either.

"Don't spout nonsense. I'm not buying it."

I understood how hard it was to believe. If anything, I probably wanted to believe it even less than he did.

Swallowing a sigh, I opened the emergency exit door and stopped dead, with only my right foot on the landing.

1... 2...

"Wh—what is it? Why'd you stop all of a sudden? Why aren't you going in?"

"One moment. There's something I need to check."

The first time, I more or less understood: I'd hurried down in a panic, missed my footing, and tumbled head over heels to my death with my neck snapped. But last time, I needed to know why I'd been standing there one moment and falling to my death the next.

And while I was at it, I could give this man a much-needed dose of reality.

3... 4... 5...

The instant that glacial chill shot up my spine—like the ground beneath me had dropped away—I pulled my right foot back and stumbled backward.

"Holy—what is this?"

The man behind me sucked in a breath at the scene spread before us. No—at the scene that had vanished. With only our heads poked out, the two of us stared down into a square hole with no bottom in sight.

"Hm..."

Come to think of it.

"Wasn't there supposed to be another emergency staircase on this floor?"

I should have checked after making it all the way down.

"Hah..."

Perhaps the reality of the labyrinth was finally sinking in, because the man sighed like the ground was giving way beneath him. But it was a moment too late. The landing had already dropped away.

"There's another emergency exit. Over there, off to the side."

I followed him down yet another nearby emergency staircase.

"Watch your step going down. Don't trip."

"That's rich, coming from the guy who collapsed the stairs. All that checking, and for what..."

The man's grumbling buzzed in my ears like it was playing in surround sound. I didn't bother wasting the energy on a retort and kept my mouth shut.

Second floor...

As we passed the second-floor emergency exit, I thought of the interviewer. Had she made it safely to the company daycare on the second floor? Or had she vanished off somewhere again?

Even if she had vanished, could I save her? Could people who'd vanished come back at all?

"Labyrinth, schmabyrinth. We just get out. That's all there is to it."

The door burst open.

"We made it!"

With that booming voice, the first-floor emergency exit swung wide.

"Huh?"

At this rate, I was going to develop a full-blown neurosis around the word huh. I hated making the sound myself, and I hated hearing other people make it even more.

Still, this time there were mitigating circumstances.

"Didn't we just come out on the first floor?"

The place we'd stepped into after opening that door was the second floor. The two of us ducked back inside the stairwell and checked the floor number stenciled on the wall.

"What the hell. Why does it say second floor?"

Before we'd entered this level, it had clearly read first floor.

Damn it.

I pressed down on the emotions churning in my gut.

"As I said before... this is a labyrinth."

Whether it was the contact type entered through a fissure, or the invasive type seeping into the earth itself, this was why they called them labyrinths. The labyrinth of Greek myth had been a prison. Built to cage the Minotaur.

"It seems we won't be leaving this easily."

A labyrinth does not lightly ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠let go of those who enter it.

"Shut your mouth! None of that jinxing talk. Some labyrinths are easy, sometimes, aren't they?"

Gritting his teeth, the man plunged back through the emergency exit and started down. He meant to go one more floor down, apparently.

It looked pointless, but you never knew, so I followed him.

Clunk!

Pointless, exactly as expected.

"Ha! Second floor again!"

He opened not the first-floor door but the one for basement level one, and the scenery that greeted us was still the second floor.

"It seems we can only descend one floor at a time."

"Then what am I supposed to do! And another thing—you!"

The man, mid-groan, whipped his head around and seized my shoulder.

"What's with you, acting so calm this whole time? Are you a Red Weaver? I don't think I've ever seen one at Yuwi who looked like you."

Calm, my ass. I was barely holding down the urge to vomit.

"No, I'm not."

Admitting out loud that I'd died, woken up alive, and already known this building would become a labyrinth... I hesitated to be that honest. I'd have trouble believing it myself, for one.

Besides, I had no idea how long this phenomenon would keep working. Whether I could come back endlessly, or whether there was a limit. There was no telling how many chances I had left.

This might be the last one. At the very least, I had to move as though it were.

"But I did save your life a few minutes ago, so I can't be all that different."

The man who had escaped a falling elevator finally shut his mouth, if only partway.

"Hm. That's... yeah, all right. I owe you one. What was your name again? I'm Choi Jaeha. I do accounting work up top, at Howol..."

Choi Jaeha fumbled a business card out of his jacket's inside pocket. Trapped in a labyrinth, and the man was thinking about exchanging business cards. Impressive, in a strange sort of way.

Cautiously sweeping our surroundings, I glanced over the card.

According to the address, his office sat on the sixteenth floor of this building. Jaerae Building was Yuwi Guild's headquarters, but a few of its floors were leased out to tenants. The sixteenth floor was apparently one of them.

"Ah—yes. A pleasure. I'm Seon Yuhan, and I'm afraid I don't have a card to hand you. I'm a job seeker who came in today to interview at Yuwi."

"Huh."

"Yes, I'm well aware of how wretched my life is. So let's move on to what we actually do next, Mr. Choi Jaeha."

I led Choi Jaeha into the grand auditorium. The third floor was one thing, but the fact that no sign of people reached even the second floor felt wrong, and standing idle in the corridor was starting to unnerve me. We needed somewhere quiet to talk, too.

The peculiar chill and gloom of a completely empty auditorium crawled over my skin.

"What do we do—how should I know? You got any bright ideas?"

Choi Jaeha snapped.

Honestly, this much was a remarkably mature reaction. For a man who'd nearly died once already and knew he might die again at any moment.

"Red Weavers don't even go into invasive labyrinths, right? Not like the competitive type."

So he was the type to call contact labyrinths "competitive" labyrinths. If "contact type" was the neutral term, "competitive type" was the more political one—value-laden, aggressive. I got a slightly better read on what kind of man Choi Jaeha was.

"That's true. There's no telling what might happen in there. Still, we can speculate a little."

"Yeah? Like what?"

"If we can't skip from the third floor straight down to the first, then I think there's some condition we have to satisfy on the second floor before it lets us descend."

And it wouldn't be something confined to this one floor. Looked at broadly, that was simply how the labyrinth itself was built. Contact type or invasive type, it made no difference.

Fulfill the condition, and the labyrinth is resolved. A very simple rule.

"And what's the condition?"

The problem, of course, was that nobody knew what the condition was.

"How would I know that? Maybe we have to stay on the second floor for a set length of time. Maybe we have to enter and exit every room on the floor. Maybe we have to find the other people trapped here and go together. Maybe we have to bring down whatever's waiting up there... Or it could be something completely absurd."

There were many roads. And those trapped in a labyrinth had to wander through every one of those countless forks. Choose wrong, and all that waited at the road's end was death, crouched and patient.

Clack—!

"Huh?"

The lights above the stage came on.